50 Shades of Paul Spector
by APT10K
Summary: Paul Spector escapes Ireland and travels to the US. There he finds the perfect, legal way to take out his aggression on unsuspecting women.


His legs felt incredibly heavy once he stood up. It had been a long flight and, more specifically, a long few months but he had never imagined he could feel so exhausted. Making quick circles with his neck he tried to stretch out as much as possible. He stood in the back, near the toilet, where he had been seated. At this point, he realized it would take a bit of time to get off the plane. It always amazed him how slowly people could move despite being so impatient. But he could be patient. Yes. He had waited longer on more important things. Deciding to prepare for when he could leave he reached toward the overhead to get the only luggage he brought, it was filled with few pieces of clothing and a whole lot of cash.

"Could you help me?" A short blonde woman turned to face him. She was wearing sneakers and had on a rain coat. "I can't get my bag, it's too heavy." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Sure," He replied, "It's not a problem." The words fell out of his mouth in a smooth American accent. He had been practicing for weeks. He paused and looked at his own clothes before moving. Did he resemble this all american girl? A black vest, black running pants and black shoes. No. He resembled the old him. That had to be fixed immediately.

He grabbed the large bag and easily brought it to the plane's floor. Placing it in front of the girl he gave her a smile and quickly turned ahead. He had to get off the plane. Would anyone know? His thoughts flew through his head. Surely, the news had to have reached the police hours ago and of course they would try to seal off all borders. He had to transform himself fully, and quickly.

The blonde was a little embarrassed. Had he turned away because she wasn't his type? He was gorgeous - brown hair, a nice beard, grey eyes. To her, he looked like everything masculine in the world. He could be her man. She wouldn't be turned away so easily. "I'm Ashley. Thanks for getting my bag..." She trailed off, hinting that she would like to know his name. Ashley flashed him a big smile and for a moment she thought she saw a hint of a smirk. However, the moment passed and no noise escaped his mouth. She breathed deeply but kept up her facade, "and you are?"

Cocking his head, he looked toward Ashley's face. Her blonde hair seemed too light. Was she really a brunette? He thought of the possibilities. She was quite pretty, but in a basic way. Brown eyes, sharp features. If only her hair was brown. He thought of how to answer, he was no longer himself, no longer 'Paul.' "I don't know," he decided.

The line of people surged forward and he took the moment to escape away. He took large steps, his long legs bringing him to the front of the plane in just a few steps. He eyed the brunette flight attendant. Pretty. Perfect. But not yet. "Thank you," he smiled at her, completely ignoring the two other male flight attendants.

"No problem," She blushed, "Welcome to Seattle." She bit her lip lightly.

He smirked at her and exited the plane. Yes. Welcome to Seattle, indeed.

* * *

It was raining and overcast. Oddly enough, the weather seemed pretty similar to Ireland. He waited outside the baggage claim, hoping to catch a taxi. He looked around and found the taxi line. Luckily it seemed the line was quite short. He sauntered over and waited in the back trying to blend in. In all honesty, he knew he was good-looking and for the most part this worked to his advantage. In regards to his projects, it made it easier to gain information. People were always more open to someone who they were attracted to. In real life, it helped him blend in, seem normal. At this moment, though, he hoped for nothing more than to go unnoticed. Just for a day. Just until he could get his story straight. He tapped his hands on his thighs and thought of male names. He could not be anything that resembled who he once was - those days were over, Paul Spector was dead. Scratching his beard he went over basic "All-American" names: Kyle, John, Andrew, Chris. Chris. He liked that one but it just wasn't right. All of them seemed too boring. He needed to liven it up.

"Next!" Yelled a chubby airport worker. He looked over at the good-looking man waiting for him to get into the taxi. The airport worker glared at the man and looked him over: In his own world, Tall, 6'0" maybe, sharp jawline. Of course, thought the worker, of course this asshole who was taking forever had everything that called to women. The airport worker waddled over to him, lifted his feet to give him more height and gave him a steely glare, "I said, next."

His hand stopped on his beard. He looked at the man in front of him, confused. The worker's anger seemed so out of place. "Sorry." He whispered. He stepped into the cab and felt the door slam behind him. He imagined knocking the worker down with one punch.

His cabbie had tan skin, light eyes and a friendly smile. "Where to?"

"I need new suits, I'd like to go get some, wherever is closest." He stated back.

"Alright," His cabbie said a bit confused. It seemed like an odd place to go. "Hey, where are you from?"

The man lifted his eyes to meet his cabbie's in the rearview mirror. "What makes you think that I'm not from here?" He lifted his chin. Everyone seemed to have a lot of questions today, it made him anxious. he looked out the window at the car behind him, the car beside him and the car in front of him. None of them seemed to be following him.

"Your accent. Sounds different," The cabbie replied hesitantly.

"Oh," He said calmly, but his thoughts were jumbled, he was not as prepared as he thought. The man reasoned with himself, he must practice more. It MUST be flawless. "Well I AM from here despite what you think," His face turned hard, his eyes cold.

"I see." The cabbie paused, trying to think of another conversation starter, "What do you do?" It came out bland but the cabbie was truly entranced and, in all honesty, a bit frightened by his customer. He seemed so cold. x

The man smiled but his eyes remained cold, "I used to be a therapist but I decided I wanted to be more hands on."

* * *

After arriving at the store he barely had a minute to himself. He had quickly paid the cabbie and ignored any other incoming questions only to be whisked away by the pretty young saleswoman. She had short red hair and looked about a foot shorter than him, even in heels. He couldn't tell if she was so attentive because she was attracted to him or because she was desperate for commission. Her name was Laura.

"There are so many colors that would work on your body type though..." Laura trailed off.

"Grey. I just want greys." It fit the personality he was trying to play. Strong, silent, mysterious. People would be intrigued but scared away from a man who wore grey. Nobody would be able to get to know a man who dressed in grey, like steal walls protecting the interior. A Christian Bale type man.

She gave him a thin smile, "Ok. Just greys." She patted down the suit he was wearing and took his measurements. Standing quickly she glanced at his face, "Just like your eyes." She risked a look at him again, he was staring at her with his eyebrow quirked up. "Anyway, let me ring you up," She led him through the expensive gaudy store to the register. "Cash or Credit?"

"Cash," he curtly replied.

"Great!" She was definitely in it for the commission. She counted the money quickly but slowed toward the last few bills. "If I can ask.. What's your name?" She looked shyly at him. Maybe she was in it for his looks too.

He turned around and looked at himself in a mirror again. Yes, he looked very much like a Christian Bale. "Christian Grey," he whispered to himself. He slowly turned around and gave Laura a smirk, "My name is Christian Grey."


End file.
